


Performance Review

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bodyswap, Consent Issues, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Gabriel's Spare Corporation, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kink Discovery, Kink Meme, M/M, Misbehaviour, Roleplay, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which an angel and a demon find themselves with a free afternoon - and one of the Archangel Gabriel's spare corporations.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 116
Kudos: 388





	Performance Review

**Author's Note:**

> Possible consent issues within, since this involves the habitation and use of a corporation without the original owner's consent.

They don't relax until they're both back in the bookshop. Until Aziraphale can tug the scroll they'd acquired from Heaven's archives out of his jacket, and put it safely away in the secret compartment in his desk, which is hidden from sight by both ethereal and occult miracles.

"I still don't believe that actually worked." Crowley tosses himself onto the sofa, or at least he tries to. The body he's currently wearing makes it more of a heavy, controlled fall into the cushions. Too many stupidly large bones and hard curves of completely unnecessary muscle. Honestly, you just don't realise how accustomed to a body you get until you wear one which isn't your own - though, he'll admit, slipping into Aziraphale's familiar well-loved curves had been a uniquely interesting and intimate experience.

This one, not so much.

No, this one was just clunky and ill-fitting, and it smells like the static charge before lightning, polyester, and brut aftershave. It's like being forced to literally inhabit 1985. Crowley can feel every tombstone slab of his new teeth, the way his stupidly wide mouth turns every grimace into a car salesman smile. Also, his entire spine feels like it has extra scaffolding, locking it all in place, there's no flexibility to anything.

"I still don't see why I had to wear one of Gabriel's spare corporations," he complains. Not for the first time.

"He was the only one who had clearance, and a schedule that removes him from Heaven for exactly an hour every time he feels like a run," Aziraphale explains, rather more patiently than Crowley probably deserves. But, in his defence, he currently looks like the Archangel Gabriel. 

Aziraphale's clearly still too pleased by their unexpectedly successful covert operation to properly consider the ways in which Crowley has suffered.

"Sandalphon kept trying to corner me to talk about battle drills," Crowley tells him. "Do you know how hard he is to get rid of? Every time you turn around he's just there, like teleporting Watson. I think I introduced power walking into Heaven trying to escape him. Which, as an aside, Gabriel's hips are not designed for. He's like a cricket bat in human form, straight up, straight down, thick all the way through." 

Michael had been hovering around him as well, stiff and attentive in the background, like some kind of giant, predatory bird. Which would have worried Crowley if he hadn't known that was just what Michael was like. Still it hadn't helped to have someone watching him at all times. He'd only been seventy-five percent confident in his ability to bluff his way through being Gabriel. That and the fact that if he stopped concentrating, Gabriel's pupils had a tendency to narrow, the rest of his eye bleeding yellow. That would have been a pretty big fucking giveaway of who he really was, if anyone had spotted it.

"You did a fantastically good job," Aziraphale reassures him. "I never doubted you for a moment."

Crowley wants to refuse to be mollified by that, but it sounds so genuine, and so affectionate. Blasted angels and their ability to see straight through him. He continues to grumble for a while though, for the principle of the thing.

"Sidenote, did you know that Gabriel has a dick?"

Aziraphale blinks. "I'm sorry."

Crowley flips the jacket open and gestures towards the Archangel's crotch.

"I thought new corporations were sexless, action man smooth and everything. But he's actually wearing the whole package from the start, dick, balls, the lot. He dresses to the left, by the way, though I feel like I could have gone another six thousand years at least without learning that personally." Crowley considers it for a moment, while Aziraphale frowns. "It's got to be for aesthetic purposes, hasn't it? I mean it's not like he's actually using it. Do you think he even knows how?" Crowley unsnaps the trousers and pulls the zip down, tugging shirt tails out of the way. 

Aziraphale makes a strangled noise of protest.

"Crowley, please that's - that's incredibly inappropriate."

Crowley doesn't see how it can possibly be, it's currently his dick, after all. Possession is nine tenths and all that.

"What? You're telling me you've never thought about it?" Crowley raises an eyebrow, hopes it looks equally as disbelieving on Gabriel's face as it does on his own.

Aziraphale looks absolutely scandalised at the clear accusation. 

" _Crowley_. Of all the things to - how can you even ask me that?"

Crowley can't help noticing that for all the obvious bluster and offence there, Aziraphale never actually offered a denial to go along with it. How hard is it to offer a simple 'no, Crowley, I've never given it a second thought.' No, no, instead the angel is fidgeting with the ring on his smallest finger, with the guilty air of a man having one of his long-buried fantasies unexpectedly unburied. Oh, oh, this is definitely worth exploring further.

"You did, didn't you?" Crowley crows, all amusement and oddly ironic satisfaction - and he has no idea what _that_ looks like on Gabriel face, but it makes Aziraphale's own expression do something unexpected and interesting. "You dirty angel, you've absolutely had lewd thoughts about him, haven't you? Did you think about him fucking you? Big tower of an Archangel between your legs. Was it over his desk, that giant wooden monstrosity in Heaven? Did you see the angles, and the little desk tidy. Do you think Gabriel actually knows how trees work?"

Aziraphale looks about an inch away from pretending he doesn't know him.

"Really, I don't think discussing this is entirely proper, especially now that we're in an intimate relationship."

Now there's a thought?

"We still could be." Crowley leans back on the sofa, lets Gabriel's solid thighs ease apart. The untucked shirt tails and open fly make the offer fairly obvious.

Aziraphale stares at him. "You're not seriously suggesting that we - while you're -"

Crowley shrugs. "Why not, it's still me, angel. You've had sex with me plenty of times. It's just a corporation after all, just surface detail, it wouldn't actually mean anything. Besides, it's not like you haven't done a few obscene and questionable things that I've wanted. So many obscene and questionable things. Which I love you for, I do, and I'm more than happy to let you have your fill of the Archangel Gabriel's body. If it's something you were interested in?"

"Dear Heavens, please don't phrase it like that." Aziraphale's still shaking his head and looking faintly winded, as if the idea of it is too scandalous to consider seriously. But Crowley knows him well enough to suspect he's considering it anyway. Aziraphale always has been exceptionally good at considering things he shouldn't. It's the reason Crowley now gets to kiss him whenever he wants. Which is probably why he's always so tempted to encourage it.

Crowley raises both eyebrows, and when that doesn't work, he tucks a thumb in the waistband of Gabriel's boring grey trousers, and boring white underwear, and pulls then down a fraction.

"How about I show you the dick, and you can make an informed decision," he suggests. 

Aziraphale makes a noise that absolutely ensures that Crowley is going to show him the dick. He eases the sides of his trouser fly apart, slips a large hand into his underwear and curls it round Gabriel's dick - takes a moment to make peace with the fact that he's holding Gabriel's dick - and then pulls it out of the material, pushing the sensible elastic waistband down with a thumb.

"Oh." It's not really a word from the angel, so much as an exhale, all at once.

"I know, right?" Crowley says, in perfect agreement. "Seriously, _look at it_. Do you think he has enough blood to run it and his body at the same time? I mean, why does he even bother? I bet he doesn't even use it. It's a waste is what it is. A massive waste of a cock."

"It does seem unnecessary considering he rarely leaves Heaven for long," Aziraphale agrees quietly. For someone who was reluctant to see it, he's definitely getting his fill of looking.

"And we both know he's not using it up there," Crowley reasons. The thought of Gabriel using it anywhere is a little disturbing, if he's being honest. Does he just keep it for jogging? Is it a weird fetish? "Maybe he just likes the weight of it, likes to feel it just slapping around? Do you think he knows about compensation? Do you think he has tiny wings."

Aziraphale gives a coughing laugh, that he very quickly strangles. 

"Would you please stop...Crowley, please stop touching it."

Crowley doesn't stop touching it, he gives a long, upwards stroke that pulls his thumb over the head. Then he does it again, until he's not only touching Gabriel's cock, but Gabriel's very interested cock. It's not as sensitive as his own, but there's more of it, and it's pleasantly weighty in his fist. Arousal is not going to be a problem, not with Aziraphale watching him like he's something he wants five courses of. There's no way he wasn't going to get hard over that.

Aziraphale makes a wheezing noise, he can't seem to look away.

"Do you want to touch it for me?" Crowley offers. "Because, I repeat, I would be absolutely ok with that."

Aziraphale doesn't immediately say no. He looks irritated, and frustrated, and deeply aroused, but there's no flat refusal, just a conflicted set of mouth. The same one he wears when he wants a second helping of dessert, but doesn't want people to think he's greedy. Crowley tugs the underwear back up and stands, stalks all the way to the desk until he can push Aziraphale back into the creaking wood. He's much taller and wider, and there's something strangely thrilling about being able to hem Aziraphale in with his body, to watch his hands scrabble at the wood behind him. To watch the quick, fluttery roll of his throat. The angel has so many tells, and Crowley's enjoyed teasing his way through every one of them.

"You haven't said no," he points out. "Not once, and I know how assertive you are when it comes to things you're not interested in."

Crowley dips down, finds the soft, pale line of Aziraphale's neck and presses his mouth there, once and then again, harder. There's a long shudder, that ends on a shaken noise of desire, that he guarantees Aziraphale was trying to stifle.

"This is incredibly unsettling," Aziraphale offers. "I know it's you, I can _feel you_ , and yet -" he stops, exhales a confused breath. "I may have, perhaps, a time or two, entertained the thought." He stops again, leaving Crowley to interpret the guilty insinuation there. "But I would never actually, not with - not with him."

"It's not him though, is it?" Crowley reminds him. "It's me, angel, it's always me, and something can be weird and hot and a bit unsettling at the same time. Come on, we both know how fantasies work. And if you want me to stop, you know you just have to say stop." Crowley draws him a little closer, presses Gabriel's ridiculous frame up against Aziraphale's softer one, and feels the gasp Aziraphale bites in half. "Though this corporation is a fair bit stronger than mine. I could probably pin you down if I had to."

Aziraphale gives a breathless laugh.

"Darling, not even with Gabriel's ridiculous physique."

Far from spilling water on Crowley's lovely fantasy, that gentle reminder that Crowley will always and forever be outmatched by the absolute fucking powerhouse of an angel he's currently doing his best to leave teeth marks in, leaves him brutally, demandingly hard against Aziraphale's thigh. 

"You have no idea how much I love you," Crowley tells him. "Now take your clothes off so I can give you your yearly performance review."

The laugh that comes after that is more than breathy, but Aziraphale surprises him by exhaling a quiet sigh of surrender too, and undoing his bow tie with careful movements.

"Chop, chop, Aziraphale, I have other angels to grade." Crowley strips off his jacket, and loosens Gabriel's tie, but he leaves the rest. Which means he has hands free to help Aziraphale undress - or to get in the way and take advantage of his arms tangling in the sleeves of his shirt, and to bite the soft skin of his chest - it probably depends on who you ask. Aziraphale doesn't seem to mind. Though there is a briefly hissed 'not helping, Crowley.' Which is a fair point, sometimes he just gets overexcited.

Aziraphale's trousers end up thrown over the back of the sofa, which speaks of how much he's enjoying this. Crowley decides this is the perfect opportunity to drag his sensible underwear down his thighs, and get a hand on him.

"Oh." Aziraphale's hips press up into his grip, pushing his cock through the much larger curl of Crowley's current fingers, and Crowley decides that's encouragement enough to guide the angel backwards, until his buttocks hit the edge of the desk.

"It doesn't feel like you touching me," Aziraphale says quietly, hands on Crowley's arms, then his waist, hot through Gabriel's shirt.

"It is me touching you," Crowley counters. "I promise you that. Would bite off anyone else's hands if they tried." He's warmed by Aziraphale's shivery noise of approval, then dips down again to press hard kisses against the bend of Aziraphale's neck, his jaw, the soft half-open warmth of his mouth. While his hand drifts from the stiff jut of Aziraphale's cock to his heavy balls, holding and tugging before moving back up to thumb the head of his dick, to smooth over the soft curve of a hip. "It's my hands on you, and it's my fingers that are about to go inside you."

Aziraphale groans surrender, thighs parting at the words.

"Hike a leg up, sport, I want to finger you against the desk," Crowley clips out, in his best impression of Gabriel's normal, obnoxious speaking voice.

There's a wobbly swearword, and the brief, bright clench of fingers on Crowley's arms. 

"Will you stop that, for Heaven's sake," Aziraphale croaks out. Then gives a short, apologetic whine at the obvious blasphemy. 

Aziraphale's dick seems to appreciate Crowley's impression, even if he doesn't, the way it nudges hard against the stretched fabric still covering Crowley's crotch, the head already flushed and leaking. He's half tempted to shove his trousers and underwear down, and just rut between the angel's spread legs, until he comes all over his lovely pale cock, plush stomach and thighs, see if the desk could take the weight of them both. The mental image of that has him nudging in against Aziraphale's groin with a hiss - which Gabriel's mouth ruins, it's probably the overabundance of teeth.

"What, you don't want to hear what your boss sounds like when he's begging to finger you?"

"N- ah - no, damn it, will you please - stop laughing, you fiend." But Aziraphale is already pulling a leg up, leaning his thigh against the desk so Crowley can reach underneath, and a quick snap leaves his long fingers slicked and running. It's too tempting not to oil Aziraphale's cock too, to cup his balls in his slick fingers, before moving back again, finding the tight ring of his anus and circling it teasingly.

There's a shudder of breath and Aziraphale cants his hips forward a touch. That's really too tempting an invitation, and one of Crowley's fingers presses into him on the next sway, is encouraged slowly deeper by Aziraphale's moan.

"How does my hand feel now?" Crowley asks. "Any doubt who's fingering you?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says tartly. "You both have a tendency to be smug when you're getting your own way."

Crowley can't help the laugh, too amused to be offended, and he's not sure whether it sounds more like Gabriel's or his own.

"You wound me, angel, comparing me to him." He carefully pushes in another finger, while there's still a bit of a stretch, just the way the angel likes. The squeezing warmth of his body is delicious, the way he presses down to get more of Crowley into him even better, as nice as that is with his fingers it's exquisite when it's his cock.

"He has much larger fingers than you," Aziraphale says, as if that excuses the sleepy-eyed expression, and the way he's giving soft noises of pleasure, every time Crowley pushes in deep.

"You have seen the dick, right?" Crowley reminds him. "You're going to need all the fingers you can get. In fact, that reminds me, you haven't actually gotten an up-close measurement yet, have you?" Crowley's other hand drops from Aziraphale's thigh and pushes his underwear down again, before catching Aziraphale's hand and pulling it between them, pressing it down over Gabriel's dick. Aziraphale gives a strangled punch of a word, his raised thigh twisting as he leans in, fingers curling, squeezing, gripping, even as the air rushes out of him. The press of the angel's warm hand affects Crowley just as much, the deep, throbbing desperation of it making him push up into Aziraphale's curled fingers.

"No matter which body I'm in, I'll always want you," Crowley chokes out.

Aziraphale makes a greedy noise that Crowley doesn't think he intends, clenching into the next push of fingers with an enthusiasm that Crowley chooses not to feel jealous of. The only reason Gabriel is getting any action is because he's not actually here. 

"But if you've changed your mind, or you want a change of venue, let me know, because otherwise I'm going to bend you over this desk, spread your beautiful arse, and then fuck you until you can't walk."

Aziraphale's whole body tightens, throat cracking out a breathless noise of surprised hunger. "Fuck, Crowley, please, that sounds - but I want to see you," Aziraphale tells him. "I need to see you."

Crowley thinks about it for a minute. "You want me to sit in the chair while you ride my cock?"

Aziraphale takes almost no time to think about that. Before he's pressing Crowley backwards, fingers slipping free of the angel's body as Aziraphale's thigh drops from the desk.

"Yes, that sounds perfect."

Crowley seats himself in the second best armchair, suit trousers shoved down to mid-thigh, leaving Gabriel's unnecessarily large cock standing straight up, flushed a desperate red at the head, and trailing a thin line of pre-come.

"You want me to finger you some more, or you want a bit of a stretch?" Crowley looks down and considers it for a second. "Or a lot of a stretch." Because it's all fun and games until someone's taken more dick than they know what to do with.

But Aziraphale is already climbing into his lap, knees shoved either side of him, straightening until Crowley can catch his soft waist. He uses the other hand to hold his cock steady, to make it ready and slick and wet, while Aziraphale guides himself slowly down onto it. Crowley feels when the head nudges the weight of the angel's balls, before slipping in behind, finding the give of his teased-open anus, and pushing up as Aziraphale bears down.

"Ah."

The first stretching push makes Aziraphale's thighs tense, and he stops there for a moment, making tiny adjustments, before he slowly presses down again. Crowley can feel the squeezing, slippery tightness of him, the way it makes blood throb in his cock. It's a tight fit, and Aziraphale works himself for a while, on the first few inches, a careful rise and fall that leaves Crowley making desperate, hungry noises, enjoying the exquisite tease of it. There are fingers gripping his shoulder, bracing the angel as he works him in deeper, with little sighs, and moans of strained pleasure. The heavy flush of his cock bobbing obscenely. Until Aziraphale's legs are folding, his soft, pale curves fitting themselves into Crowley's lap. 

"Fuck, look at you," Crowley strangles out. The shifting push of his hips tells him that Aziraphale has taken him all the way, and he can't help but be impressed. "Can't believe you got that all inside you. I may have to make a few indecent purchases, I clearly haven't been exploring the full potential of your incredible fucking body."

Aziraphale huffs a laugh, that immediately breaks into a groan, before he's carefully leaning in, fingers tangling in Crowley's hair, as he tugs his head back and kisses him, kisses him in deep, wet pushes that it takes him a dizzying second to return. Then he's leaning back again, gently moving in Crowley's lap, speared open and tight and full.

"Fuck you're beautiful like this," Crowley tells him. "You have no idea."

Aziraphale moans and moves a little faster, giving delicious hisses and catches of breath at the way that obscene length of cock fills him. Crowley pulls him in closer, encouraging every sinking roll of hips, every straining flex of his beautiful thighs. He's still so tight, a vicious and lovely squeeze every time his body presses down. Crowley leans back a little in the chair until he can look down and see the slick, wide length of his cock drawing free, and then pressing in again, under the heavy sway of Aziraphale's balls. It does a fantastic job of punching all the air out of him.

Crowley doesn't understand how no one else has ever pursued Aziraphale, doesn't understand how no one else has ever wanted him as desperately as Crowley has. But he can't bring himself to be disappointed that he's the one Aziraphale chose. There's nothing he wouldn't do for his angel. Nothing.

Including nudging his badly hidden fantasies into life.

"Come on, champ, put your back into it," Crowley insists, in what he now knows is a damn good Gabriel impression.

"Fuck -" Aziraphale makes a strangled, helpless sort of noise, fingers digging sharply and painfully into Crowley's shoulders. His whole body shudders, thighs tightening and pulling in, air hissing between his teeth. But he doesn't tell Crowley to stop. He doesn't tell Crowley not to do it, which is good enough for him.

"Does your demon boyfriend fuck you like this?" he bites out - makes sure there's a thread of arrogance and satisfaction in the words.

"Will you - oh, will you please not," Aziraphale says desperately, but the thready hint of pleading is definitely not for Crowley to stop. He's groaning out a breath on every solid push into his body. The angel can protest as much as he likes, but Crowley can feel every quick, desperate clench of his tight arse around Gabriel's ridiculous cock. He can hear the strangled sounds he makes when Crowley tugs on his hips with Gabriel's big spade hands. Every fall of his body leaving the wet smack of skin ringing through the bookshop.

"I bet that wicked fiend is seething with jealousy right now. What do you think he'd say if he could see you like this, riding my magnificent dick and loving every minute of it?"

"I don't -"

"Don't lie to an Archangel, Aziraphale." Crowley says, all firmness and too many teeth, accent smooth and deep.

There's a strangled burst of air.

" _Crowley_ -"

"No," Crowley says, moving Aziraphale into every rolling thrust, feeling the angel meet him in squeezing downward pushes. His cock has risen and filled completely, jutting and stiff with lust. Crowley knows what Aziraphale wants, and he's always given Aziraphale what he wants. "Do it properly."

"I can't - " Aziraphale looks scandalised and horrified, but there's a red flush crawling up his throat, a shivering whine every time Crowley shoves Gabriel's cock all the way into him. "Gabriel," he chokes out, then moans as if he's going to be punished for it.

"Yes," Crowley agrees, being careful not to hiss at the end, biting the word off with military precision. To keep hold of Gabriel's clipped, self-important sentences, his vague air of smugness and disdain. "That's right, don't forget who's fucking you right now. You're going to be good for me, aren't you? You're going to be so good for me, Aziraphale. And you're going to let me leave this corporation's filthy essence inside you."

Aziraphale's fingers dig in and he grunts a shaky affirmative, mouth open now, thighs shaking. Crowley suspects he's just sent him non-verbal. Which is always a good sign.

Crowley grips both hands round Aziraphale's generous waist, takes over completely, pulling Aziraphale down while he drives up with his hips, gratified that Gabriel at least has something in the way of natural core strength. Fuck, he's not going to last long. Aziraphale is beautiful when he gives in, when he lets himself indulge, decides to be greedy. 

"Touch yourself, show me what a mess I'm going to make of you."

Aziraphale obeys immediately, the hand that grasps himself already shiny with lubricant. It slides and pulls on his cock in quick, greedy jerks, smoothing over the head with the meat of his thumb, while he gasps air like a drowning man.

"There we go, fuck, I can't - " The stabbing ecstasy of orgasm ruins Crowley's accent completely, purple eyes blooming yellow, pupils splitting and narrowing. "Fuck, _angel_."

He buries himself inside Aziraphale's squirming, shaking body, feeling like he's been cored out, spilling into him impossibly deeply, and groaning his name. He's absently aware that there are now messy lines of semen across Gabriel's white shirt, and his lilac tie, and Aziraphale's hand is still working his cock, in slow, indulgent pulls, come running slowly down his fingers as he shivers in Crowley's lap.

"You absolute bloody fiend," Aziraphale breathes eventually, then wraps a hand round Crowley's neck, pulls him in and kisses him.

Crowley's fairly sure Aziraphale is leaving spunk in his hair, which he feels is probably justified. It's also, in some way, fucking hilarious. Aziraphale pulls a face when he leans back, coughs an unexpected laugh.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's exactly as disturbing as I thought it would be, now all the endorphins have worn off," he says, though he sounds more amused than disappointed.

Crowley hums something that may or may not be satisfaction, feeling his cock slowly soften and ease free of the angel. The dick is just as impressive reddened and wet and drooling come, because of course it is. It's such a tragic waste, Crowley can't even feel jealous properly. He wraps his big hands around Aziraphale's hips and pulls him in close.

"You are an incorrigible monster," Aziraphale tells him.

"Not gonna pass me up for the Archangel Gabriel?" Crowley asks. "Who has proven himself, quite literally, to be a massive prick. Though I would like to remind you, he lacks my fantastic flexibility and sexual creativity. Seriously, he fucks like a brick."

The look Aziraphale cuts him is terribly amused but desperately trying to hide it, indulgent and chastising in equal measure. Crowley lives for how much Aziraphale lets him see, for how much he gives him now.

"Hmm," Aziraphale considers for a moment. "Well, I have grown rather attached to your ridiculous face over the last six thousand years."

"Ridiculous?" Crowley protests. 

"Don't pout, darling, he doesn't wear it well."

"Ugh, fine. I suppose I better go put his corporation back, before he notices its gone."


End file.
